Living in Hydra, is like living out scenes from an obscure arthouse cinema. There are monasteries high up in the mountains, where the only sound is the wind blowing through the junipers. You eat the sweetly spicy juniper and are tempted to try out the wild saffron that grows on the rocks as you walk the steadily steep path. On some days the monastery appears almost unpeopled. We meet only two cats. On another day we are gifted with the vision of a long haired monk, with a voice as deep as the blue aegean. The monk calls out “Leon” in his booming voice and inspects empty olive cans. Leon happens to be a giant mastiff who guards the monastery. He looks and sounds absolutely formidable but is in fact a gentle giant. He is all ready to nuzzle with us after a peremptory bark. Six or seven wild horses enter the monastery grounds in single file and irritate Leon who barks furiously whenever he eyes the monk. He knows where his bread comes from, definitely. The sun shines strongly and the stillness is shattered by the distant braying of a donkey from the valley below.

By the second week, we are making small talk with the Hydriots. This is the low season, and tourists are few. When we crave some people energy, we head out to the port. The faces are all familiar now. After a few visits to the cathedral the caretaker gently hands me a picture of Saint Konstantinos and instructs me how to go about carving it out on wood and spread the good word of Greek orthodox Christianity once I am back in India. To be fair we really feel moved by the beauty of the church and the kind, trusting friendliness of the caretaker. The last day before we leave we mention that our toddler loves the incense in the church. A small paper clad parcel of incense and coal burners are handed out to Arjun to take back home.

The daily ferry from Athens, brings a few day trippers who leave by evening. We get into an easy rhythm and its reassuring to see the same beautiful cat lounging on the same street everyday.

The hike to the prophet Elias monastery is a strenuous climb through the pine forests. Some of the pine trees drip copious amounts of fragrant pine gum and we feverishly try to collect a lot. The drippings burn with a marvelous fragrance at our adopted home, Maria’s House. Maria’s House is an old stone building with thick cool walls. Our hosts Thanasis and Fomay are absolute gems. In our two weeks stay we were often handed out cookies baked at home and hot Moussaka for dinner cooked for themselves shared with us. They are the most generous and kind hosts. Our trail to the monastery snakes upwards along stone blocks.

Despite the cool wind, we start sweating and welcome the warm patches of sunlight. When we gain some elevation, the small sheltered port of Hydra is visible. The deep blue aegean sea is still and a few sailboats are white triangles. A small sea taxi, leaves behind a trail of foam as it makes its way to the Peloppense port of Metoxi across the narrow band of blue.

The monks rely on food and other basic necessities to come from Hydra on mules, just as Hydra gets all its necessities from Metoxi or Athens by barge. A mule train carrying corn trudges up and we stand aside. After a series of switchbacks. we are huffing and puffing and begin the final section, a long series of rough cut stone steps. I’m ravenously hungry and a little worried by the lack of anything substantial to eat in our backpacks. Ancient hands have deftly built walls with rough rock. There is no mortar holding up the wall that runs along the flight of stairs. Orange lichen grows on the grey rock and we sight the monastery bathed in warm sunlight.

A beautiful circular chapel stands, its doors closed. A huge iron bell, sits on the floor demurely and I wonder if it was too heavy to raise up to the tower. Dhanya has discovered that the small unmanned gift shop has a box of gooey candy that says “Free”. I partake freely of this great gift, calming my hunger pangs. The meager lunch we had brought along has magically been followed up by this holy dessert. The walk back to Hydra port with Arjun on my back will most probably take an hour and a half.We thank the monks silently for their generosity since we don’t see any walking around.

The monastery is serene as only a monastery set on a hill can be. Arjun plays for a long time with rocks and makes a stone truck. We sit happily in the sun.